Till Death Do Us Part
by erikjavert24601
Summary: Christine has a change of heart before Don Juan, and it looks like "happily ever after" for her and Erik. But something goes terribly wrong during the performance, and Christine learns what it means to sacrifice everything for the one she loves.


I awoke early the day "Don Juan" opened. I usually sleep late before performing an opera, and have my hairdresser wake me with only enough time to don my costume and warm up my voice. But this was no ordinary opera.

That night I had the dream again, the dream I had been having every night for weeks now. I was on the roof again, just as I had been the night of "Il Muto," the night when the chandelier fell. Raoul was there, as in real life, and Erik had come out from behind the statue of Apollo, instead of hiding behind it, as he had been that night.

Raoul was to my left, holding out his hand to me, winking at me and giving me a sunny, encouraging smile, as though he knew he had already won. Erik had walked around to my right, though he did not extend his hand. He had never initiated contact between us, too respectful of me and fearful of my rejection. I could kill him with a word; he would commit suicide if I asked it of him. His eyes were pleading behind his mask, and despairing, as if he knew he had already lost.

Before me lay the edge of the roof, beyond was all of Paris under a blanket of snow. I looked back and forth between Raoul and Erik; It was obvious I had to choose between them.

How was I supposed to choose? I wouldn't do it! All of a sudden I rushed forward and threw myself off the roof of the Opera, and the ground rushed up to meet me. Just as I hit the ground, I would awaken, gasping for air.

Except tonight the dream had been different. Instead of plummeting to the pavement I stopped in midair, and looked up to see myself supported by a figure in a white mask.

So I had made my choice, and awoken early.

I dressed hurriedly and donned a heavy cloak; It was cold beneath the cellars of the Opera. When I reached the lake I used the rope he had rigged so that I might cross without him. I soon felt the scraping of the opposite shore beneath the bow of the boat. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key Erik had given me, my "means to betray" him to Raoul.

"Erik!" I called as I opened the door and stepped into his foyer. "Erik?"

I found him in his music room, pacing.

"Good morning, _my dear._" He said coldly, and I shuddered at the look in his eyes. I realized then that he knew of Raoul's plan to use me as bait in the performance, as well as my hand in it. I had been foolish to suppose he didn't know; there was nothing in the Opera House that he didn't know about. The thought of how enraged he must be turned my stomach, but I held my ground knowing what I was about to do.

"Erik," I began, but he cut me off.

"Why are you here, Christine" Why aren't you resting before the performance of my masterpiece?" He stopped pacing suddenly and looked up at me coldly, "Or packing for your honeymoon?"

I flushed, and looked down at the floor guiltily.

"I wanted to talk to you about that," I mumbled.

"What is there to talk about, Christine? You are going to betray me to the police, and then run off with your Vicomte after I have been executed. Or perhaps you won't even wait that long. You'll leave right after your curtain call, the curtain call _I_ gave you. It will be your last performance ever. You know that! He won't let you perform agan. You'll be a Vicomtess and, after Phillipe dies, a Comtess, his trophy; it wouldn't be seemly."

"I didn't think about that."

He snorted and didn't reply, but instead continued to pace nonstop. Back and forth, back and forth, every inch of his tall frame seethed with rage, until I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Erik!" I yelled, "Sit down!"

Startled, he did as I said. Though he added timidly, "Don't yell, Christine. Not today."

I nodded; he was right.

"Hear me out, Erik," I said more quietly, "I know you were there that night on the roof. I betrayed you and, looking back, I can't believe I would do such a thing. How could I betray you, my Angel? You have given me so much, and I threw it back in your face for the fleeting affections of a childhood friend."

Erik had turned toward the fire, giving me his masked cheek; I could not read his emotions.

I continued, "I don't know how you could ever forgive me." Then, more quietly, "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."

Still he did not turn.

"All that you've said is true. If I married Raoul, what kind of life would I lead? Oh, I would be rich, a Vicomtess, unless his brother disowned him. But I would be a prisoner. I can't lead the life of the aristocratic lady Raoul wants me to be. I would forever belong to him, never free to make my own choices. I look to the light and I see a cage of whalebone bars draped in chiffon. I look to the darkness and I see freedom, such perfection."

"How can you call this perfection, Christine?"

"How can you call it otherwise? You are so perfect, Erik, so wise so caring, so passionate! You have only one flaw-"

"My face-"

"Your temper! But if you are not overly provoked, you keep it well. People _are_ made of beauty and ugliness, but not the kinds you think. Raoul is handsome; he treats me with kindness and gentlemanly respect. But Raoul is also ugly; he is willing to put me in the line of fire in order to destroy his rival. Though," I gave a small chuckle, "What would be the point if I were killed in the process?"

"You are ugly as well, Erik; though Carlotta is undoubtedly not the nicest person in the world, her actions did not merit the humiliation she received during 'Il Muto.' You have been tormented and humiliated all your life, Erik. Can you honestly say that anyone deserves that?"

"Some people…" He muttered.

"Yes, Erik, your tormenters. Let them be tortured and made to perform in cages. But Carlotta didn't do that, did she?"

"No, she did not." He admitted with a sigh, "Oh, but, Christine," he looked up at me earnestly, "She made you cry! I-I just can't stand to see you in pain." His heart was in his eyes as he spoke. It made my heart ache to know how much he loved me.

"And that's your beauty, Erik. You love with all your heart! You are so passionate about anything and everything! You can't possibly know how much you mean to me! You have done so much for me, Erik. You were there when no one else was, not even Meg or Madame Giry. You don't know this, but, that night when you came to me, the Angel of Music, I was so low that-Oh, Erik, I was going to cut my wrists. I was going to-to…" I broke off, unable to finish.

"Oh, Christine," His eyes had grown wide, "If you had killed yourself, I think I should have done the same."

There was a sad silence, neither of us could think of anything to say.

Suddenly Erik spoke up, "You have spoken much this morning, my dear. Shall I fix you some tea?"

"That sounds lovely, Erik, but just one more thing."

He nodded and sat back down upon the couch.

"It's because of all this that I have decided not to elope with Raoul. Though, I haven't told him for fear he might try to take me by force." I glanced up at him surreptitiously, "Love makes people do strange things."

He gave me a small smile.

"And, Erik… You once asked me to be your wife and, well, I never really gave you an answer." The smile on his face faded, and he grew a bit fearful. "Erik, the answer is that I would be overjoyed to become your wife, if the offer still stands. Does it?"

"Oh, Christine," I could see his eyes were brimming with tears, "How can you even ask that? Of course it does. Christine, do you really mean it? Can you really be consenting to be my wife?"

"I am _not_ consenting, Erik!" I exclaimed in mock affrontery," I am…expressing my active interest in doing so." I smiled, and so did he, once he saw that I was teasing him.

He knelt on the ground before me, beaming up at me through his tears, "Oh, Christine, you don't know how much this means to me! I swear to you, we don't have to do anything but coexist; we don't even have to hold hands if you don't want to!"

My smile fell, "Erik, when I said I would marry you, I meant it in every sense of the word."

"Oh, Christine, you make me the happiest man in the world!" He exclaimed, and swept me up in his arms and twirled me high in the air. When he set me down we embraced each other, each squeezing the other so tightly we could have melted into each other, and I loved him enough to do so.

After a long while we parted and Erik took my hand in his and slipped on the ring he had given me months ago, and I had lost. He smiled though somewhat sadly.

"You should leave. You can get a few more hours of sleep before tonight's performance."

"Yes."

"Christine," He began hesitantly, "I hate to ask you this, but I fear I must."

"Go ahead, Erik." I prompted.

"Christine, how will I know that you mean what you say? That this isn't just an elaborate ploy to…" He trailed off, staring at the ground.

I was only slightly hurt by his doubt. I completely understood where he was coming from. He had been hurt so badly in his tragic life, how could he not doubt me?

I cupped a hand around his unmasked cheek, "I understand." We gazed into each other's eyes for a few moments, seemingly frozen, before I remembered myself, and his request. I reached down to my neck and grasped the chain about it. To my mortification it still held Raoul's flashy engagement ring. I blushed furiously but ignored it. Pulling from the chain the miniature portrait of my father, I grasped Erik's hand and pressed into his palm.

"Take this," I said, "As a promise. I love you and I will return."

His eyes went wide at my choice of collateral, "I know how much this means to you," He said stutteringly, "You loved him very much."

"Keep it for me, Erik, with the oath that I love you more."

He nodded.

"And," I added, "Erik, don't come to the performance. You know what Raoul plans to do, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"My dear," her replied with a wry smile, "It is _my_ opera, and you, my love, are starring in it. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

I gave him a small smile back. Then I put my arms about him and squeezed him in a hug, "Be safe."

With that, I walked out his front door, and into the inky blackness beyond.

When I reached my dressing room I threw myself upon my bed, desperate to squeeze in a few more hours sleep.

Curling up beneath the covers, I smiled. _Tonight,_ I thought, _Tonight I would be Erik's bride!_

**********

I was awakened some time later by my dresser, Fantine.

"Mademoiselle Daae?"

"Come in!"

She entered my room carrying a bundle of petticoats an skirts in her arms. Thankfully my costume was not very complicated for _Don Juan_; Amnita was only a simple peasant, in contrast to the Countess of _Il Muto_, who required an elaborate Italian ensemble.

I got out of bed and she began to lace me into my corset, chatting away happily as she did so. I didn't hear most of what she said-my mind was elsewhere-and simply nodded my head and smiled occasionally between short breaths. I really could sing much better without the corset, which constrained my diaphragm, making deep breaths a bit painful.

It wasn't until she began discussing _Don Juan_ that I paid attention.

"It's such a strange opera, not like anything we've ever done before."

"Yes, it's much _better _than most of the pieces we put on."

"It is good, yes. But it's so dark, so carnal. I don't know how the audience will react."

"I don't know either, Fantine. I certainly hope they like it. Though I'm not so sure, with that Italian goose Piangi singing the male lead!"

We both giggled at that as she started on my hair.

**********

I began getting into costume a little while after she left. I believed her. She had sworn on her father's grave, and I was giving her one more chance.

I went through with my plan, however, though perhaps I wouldn't have to abduct her before the curtain call as I had originally planned. Only she and I together could perform my opera the way it was meant to be.

I waited until the seduction scene to make my entrance, the most emotionally charged scene in the opera.

She sensed the change immediately. How could she not? Piangi's and my voice were drastically different, to put it mildly.

She seemed frightened at first, and I enjoyed thinking that it was for my well-being. But she soon threw herself into the role with a frenzied passion, charging the air with an intensity that had not existed during rehearsals.

Raoul noticed as well. I could see him fidgeting in his box and sometime near the end of the scene I noticed that he was no longer there. This worried me slightly, but I became too involved in the music to consider the implications.

Just as Christine and I were singing the duet section, the impetuous Vicomte rushed onto the stage! How dare he! How dare he disrupt the perfection of my _Don Juan Triumphant!_

I began to move toward him, murder in my mind, but I froze at his next words.

"It's him! It's the Opera Ghost! Fire! Shoot him!"

I immediately heard the report of musket fire. I felt the impact as the bullet hit. I was surprised at how painless it was, and I glanced down to see that I wasn't wounded. But then, whom had the bullet hit? My blood ran cold and drained from my already pale face as I realized the answer. I suddenly held Christine slumped in my arms, with something warm and sticky flowing through my fingers and down the back of her dress.

She looked up at me and smiled weakly, "I'm sorry, Erik. I'm afraid you'll have to carry me."

My eyes went wide and I bit back tears. As I pulled the lever to drop the chandelier, I whispered, "Don't worry, my love, we'll be home soon." I gathered her in my arms and we dropped through the trap door in the stage.

In a daze I carried Christine through the labyrinth of dark tunnels. When I reached my home, I carried her into her room and sealed the door; it was to be our hiding place should the mob find its way down here.

I laid Christine gently on the bed and knelt beside her. Oh God! There was a tiny trickle of red near her mouth. What would I do if she… I couldn't fathom it! She was my life; I loved her so. Was God this cruel? To bring be so close to bliss once more, then yank me away with both hands. It was my wedding night, and here was my bride in the wedding bed, dying.

Her eyes fluttered open. Seeing me, she smiled slightly.

"Erik," she whispered.

I took her hands in mine, "I'm here, Christine. Why? Why couldn't you have let them shoot me instead?"

Her answer was painfully simple, "Because I love you, Erik."

"Oh, Christine."

Her face fell and she gave a small whimper of pain.

"NO! No, Christine, please don't leave me!" The tears flowed freely now, "Please," I sobbed, "Christine!"

"Don't grieve, Erik. We shall see each other again soon." Her voice was growing fainter with each word. Finally I had to lean close to her to hear what she was saying.

"Kiss me, my angel," though she had barely breathed out the word, I thought I heard her add, "unmasked."

My mask had been removed long ago. Had it only been minutes? It seemed like hours. The only reason I wasn't dead was that she had protected me, literally sacrificing her life to save mine. But now that she had come into my life, how could I live without her?

I gently pressed my horrid lips to her perfect, blood-stained ones, and whispered, "I love you, my Angel."

She smiled then, and closed her eyes for the last time. Such pain exploded within me as cannot be described, and I collapsed upon the ground, alternating between gut wrenching sobs and inhuman cries of anguish that ripped at my vocal chords. Now that she was gone what need-what _right_-did I have to make music without her?

Soon the pain became unbearable and, getting up, I staggered over to Christine's desk, grabbing the small knife she used as a letter opener. What irony, it had a delicate little carving of an angel upon the hilt, the real "Angel of Death."

Dragging myself to the bed, I drove the weapon deep into my chest, then pulled it out again as roughly as I could manage. The pain was intense, but nothing could compare to the red-hot agony of losing my Christine.

With my last vestiges of strength, I climbed into the bed beside my Angel, my life's blood swiftly staining the sheets crimson.

_We shall see each other again soon…_

"Take me with you my Christine."

I put my arms about Christine's cooling, stiffening body and buried my face in her hair as I waited for mine to do the same, which it soon did.

Finally, I was home.


End file.
